


Gone (+Podfic)

by Ineke (ANightingaleInAGoldenCage)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Lots of Angst, Other, astoria dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 08:11:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANightingaleInAGoldenCage/pseuds/Ineke
Summary: Astoria passes away, and Draco tries to process it all.





	Gone (+Podfic)

**Author's Note:**

> This story has now been podficced by crowsb4bros/Paulatheprokaryote! Check it out https://hpft-wirelesswizardingnetwork.tumblr.com/post/189437642015/gone-by-ineke-inekepp-narrated-by here if you want to!

The sudden silence in the room, save for the slow ticking of the clock on the wall behind him, was a bigger slap to the face than Draco had imagined it being, yet all he seemed to be able to do was hold his breath. His fingers clenched, nails digging into skin, hoping beyond hope that there would be a change, that there would still be seconds, minutes, that it wasn’t over. Hoping they’d still have time. Yet the clock behind him, them, kept ticking, mocking him with each passing second, driving a knife deeper within his heart, his lungs, his everything with each tick. The little bit of hope he had clung to slipping through his fingers like grains of sand, until it all shattered into a million tiny pieces when not him, but Scorpius didn’t seem to be able to hold his breath any longer and let out a choked sound, utterly broken while still trying to keep it together, which arguably made it even worse.

Draco wrenched his eyes from the still form of his wife, his gaze landing on his son, perched on the edge of his seat, the most haunted, broken look in his eyes, damp with unshed tears, fingers digging so hard into the sheets that his knuckles were white. His tall form folded in itself, yet still seated in a way where he could easily flee if he wanted to. Mouth trembling, trying to keep himself composed, but utterly failing at it.  
The knives dug deeper into Draco, seeing his son like that, and the worst part was that he had no idea how to comfort his son. No idea how to help him deal with the utter grief that engulfed the two of them, wanting to reach out but not having any idea how to, feeling waves and waves of inadequacy adding to the already overwhelming feelings threatening to overtake him.

He wanted to move his fingers, still clenched around the hand of Astoria, reach out to the pale boy sitting on the other side of the bed, seemingly getting more and more restless, fidgeting, like he didn’t know what he wanted, needed. Wanted to hold his hand, let him know that he wasn’t alone, didn’t have to deal with it all alone, maybe even wrap an arm around him, hold him against his chest like he sometimes used to do when he was still little. When it was all still simple, less complicated, just the three of them living life shielded off from the outside world.  
But Draco seemed to be unable to remove his hands, like removing them would be the ultimate proof for his body to realise there was no hope left. He was unable to reach for his son and give him the comfort he needed, and he absolutely hated himself for it. He never had wanted Scorpius to feel like he couldn’t come to him when needed, couldn’t get a hug from him if the need was there, and up until now he had felt like he had done a good enough job at making sure he knew that. But now, when it finally seemed to matter, he was unable to set himself up as the person Scorpius needed, and whether it was because of his age or just because he wasn’t a good enough dad, he didn’t know. He just knew that he absolutely hated himself for it.

He opened his mouth, closed it, tried to form words of comfort in the hopes of making it even the tiniest bit better for his son, but none came to mind. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find anything that could benefit his son, take the sharp edges off even a tiny bit, but nothing was good enough. There was nothing he could think of that Scorpius didn’t already know, nothing he could say that wouldn’t somehow make it worse.  
When Draco opened his eyes again, he was horrified, yet not surprised, to see that tears had started forming in his son’s eyes and there was still nothing he was able to do. Nothing his body would let him do, except putting the thought in his mind that he was utterly failing at being a parent and that was a thought he could do without, especially at this moment, but it kept going and going and going, intermixing with all the thoughts and grief already overflowing his mind. It was suffocating.

“D-dad?” Yet again Scorpius broke the silence, struggling to find words, struggling to talk, and still Draco could do nothing but raise his eyes and look at his son, and give him a slight nod, indicating that he was listening. Maybe it was for the better anyway, that he wasn’t able to say a thing. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to speak right now.  
“Can I… could I…” He was uncomfortable. Draco didn’t blame him, and for the first time today he seemed to rightly guess what his son wanted, needed, and so he didn’t hesitate before nodding again, a grateful look passing over his son’s face, before it was almost immediately replaced by a look of guilt and pain. He didn’t give long for Draco to dwell on it, however, for he got up, choking back sobs again, and heading for the door, so he could let it all out in private, and probably even write Albus. 

“Scorpius?” The word was out of his mouth before he even realised what he wanted to say to his son. Even now, he found it difficult to realise why exactly he had stopped his son, but as Scorpius hesitated in the doorway, clearly wanting to leave, his mouth continued to talk for him, finding the words he didn’t knew he had deep inside him.  
“Invite him to the funeral, if you want.” Draco took a deep breath. “Albus, I mean.” He wasn’t sure if it needed clarifying, or whether his son was actually going to write to his best friend. But he had to try, give him something, offer him more support than he himself was probably able to give. And if that meant letting Albus come to the funeral, then he wasn’t going to complain. Scorpius needed all the support he could get.

And seemingly, Scorpius was grateful it, for he managed a slight smile and a nod, before making a hasty retreat. Draco was left alone again, sitting in silence, holding the hand of his wife, with nothing to distract him anymore from the fact that he lost her. That he would never see her smile again, or laugh, or get hell from her whenever he got things wrong again. Left alone in a world without her by his side to help him navigate, to help him become a better person. He wasn’t sure how he was going to have to cope with that.

And still the clock in the room kept ticking, forever reminding him of the fact that every second that passed was another second without Astoria, constantly driving the knives deeper in him, until he could no longer keep it together, and let the tears fall.


End file.
